Black Heart
by chocolatecheesecakes
Summary: The lengths that even the coldest of men will go for love are extraordinary, especially in unusual circumstances. So when Cygnus Black is faced with the death of his wife, he finds himself helpless and truly furious for the first time in his entire life.


This story was written to a prompt for the Diagon Alley II forum: Martini – write a story set in the 1920's.

For this, I chose to write about the birth of Dorea Black, which was in 1920. I also chose to incorporate the death of Violetta Bulstrode, the mother of Dorea, as well, as the Harry Potter wiki doesn't mention her official death date, so I chose to make it so that Violetta died in childbirth, which is likely considering the differences in both Muggle and Medicine back then to now.

I also included the prompt of: Olive (Spinach based dish) - which is actually just spinach because I'm lazy.

I hope you all enjoy this story!

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Black Heart

It was the middle of the night, in the centre of a street, somewhere within the mazes of alleyways and footpaths, hidden deep within a city that never paused. The street lamps provided meagre light, illuminating the man who was standing, looking up at the starry landscape of the sky.

He was waiting. He'd been waiting for a while now, as well. But nothing was appearing. Not even the bright, momentary flashes of light that he accustomed to. He wasn't sure what the sudden bursts were, but that didn't trouble his mind.

There was more to think about. More ideas to ponder as he looked up at the midnight blackness. Nothing that concerned things he knew nothing about. It simply didn't matter to him any longer. When one lives in such an elite society, trivial wonders like the flashing became meaningless.

The true question was; what was he waiting for? He didn't even know whether he would care one way or the other, whichever way it happened. Even if this child that his wife had been carrying turned out to be female, it would mean little to Cygnus Black II. He was, quite simply, detached.

"…Master Black?"

The man almost jumped, but he caught himself just in time. It wouldn't do any good of him to be seen participating in such a human behaviour. His main attribute was to be cold and distant, especially in regards to the family House Elves.

"Yes?" he asked, straightening his robe and adjusting his tie. He didn't look down at the House Elf, no point in risking neck injuries to glance at the Help. After all, there were only two ways that this news could go.

"It's-" the Elf squeaked, its ears just visible within Cygnus's peripheral vision. "It's Mistress Black, Master Black, sir, she's had her child."

Cygnus nodded. Was he supposed to be excited? He had three children already, two of them strong boys, just right to continue the Pureblood line. This event, the birth of his fourth child, did not mean much to him.

"Excellent," he uttered, in his cool tone, still not affording the House Elf a glance of any measure. "Would my wife like me inside now?"

His voice carried a tremor this time, like the punchline of a joke. He knew all too well that his wife was not his boss. As young and naïve as his father had thought him to be, he was strong. He was the head of the Black family.

"M-Mistress Black, sir," the House Elf continued, voice trembling like the creature expected a thrashing. "S-she's not recovering and-"

"What are you saying?" Cygnus quickly snapped his eyes down, a wave of anger running through him at the simple phrase. "Of course she's recovering! She always recovers. Go and slip your hand into the fire, and think twice before you feed me this pigswill in the future."

He looked up again, hands grasping the fabric inside the pockets of his robes. Why wouldn't Violetta be okay? He had done everything the same as with the births of their previous children. The fire was lit, the Healers were there. Nothing. Was. Different.

Violetta was still young, just like him. There was no reason why complications should arise. Magical Medicine was remarkable, also, and Cygnus had no doubts in the skill of the Healers.

Cygnus turned on his heel, disturbing a few pebbles from their place on the ground, before marching inside, eyes dark and blazing. The door swung shut behind him with a wave of his hand, and he stormed upstairs, heart pounding in his chest.

The door to his wife's room was slightly ajar, the stink of blood and metal bleeding out into the corridor outside. He paused, the spinach he'd eaten for lunch lurching in his stomach, before slowly edging the door open.

He flinched instantly. The smell was a hundred times worse now, invading his nostrils with tendrils of slow death. Cygnus's eyes flickered to his wife in the bed, before he glanced at the Healer, who was standing to one side, eyes betraying nothing.

"Is she-" he began, swallowing to moisten his dry throat. "I mean- will she be okay?"

"It's too early to say yet, sir," the Healer admitted, looking Cygnus straight in the eyes, gaze unreadable. "There were a number of complications that arose... Mrs Black lost a lot of blood."

"But that's replenishable, right?" Cygnus parroted, hands clenching into fists. "It's not... Impossible to fix. I know it isn't, last time-"

"Mr Black," the Healer cut in. "Your wife was in a similar state last time she gave birth. This time, her wounds reopened, and we haven't been able to cease the blood flow. We could move her to St. Mungo's, but the shock is likely to kill her."

Cygnus fell silent. He eyes flickered from the Healer to his wife. His dear, sweet Violetta. The only woman he knew he would ever truly love.

"I'm sorry, Mr Black," sympathy bled through into the Healer's voice again. "But I'm afraid there's nothing we can do."

"NOTHING YOU CAN DO?" Cygnus yelled, fixing the Healer with a furious, petrified stare. He marched forward, seizing the man by the throat and tightening his grip, another wave of pure fury rushing through him. "YOU DO NOT TELL ME THAT THERE IS NOTHING TO BE DONE! I AM THE HEAD OF THE BLACK HOUSEHOLD, AND I COMMAND YOU TO SAVE MY WIFE!"

The Healer's eyes bulged, and Cygnus quickly loosened his grip, sending the poor man reeling backwards, seemingly terrified. "O-of course sir!" The Healer quickly said, averting his gaze and rushing to Violetta's bedside.

Cygnus took a deep breath, and turned away. Any longer looking at the prone body of his wife and he would break one of the priceless vases. It was not in his nature to apologise, so he did nothing of the sort. He waved the Healer away with a dismissive sweep of his hand, staring into the flickering fire.

"Leave us," he said sharply, waiting carefully for the door to shut before turning around once more.

Slowly walking over to the bed, heart pounding, Cygnus took his wife's hand in his and slowly felt for a pulse. It was there. Faint, but there. He sighed and sat in the antique chair next to the bed, watching Violetta's face for any sign of a response.

His devout attention waned after a moment or two. His eyes moved to the room, taking in the tapestries on the walls, detailing the gruesome deaths of Muggles and the triumph of Wizards and Witches above all others. The fire was the cause of the only light in the whole room, barely illuminating the carpet, let alone the walls. The moon was a silvery orb in the sky, just beyond Cygnus's reach, tempting him to reach out and attempt to grab it.

Cygnus checked her pulse again. It was getting fainter.

"You can't leave me," Cygnus burst out, snapping his words, flicking them into the shadowy corners of the room with accustomed ease. "You can't! I forbid you from leaving me - you can't leave me and you know it!"

There was still no response. Cygnus swallowed once more, looking away from Violetta's pale face. He couldn't stand it any longer.

"...she's dying, isn't she?"

Cygnus looked up from the intricate patterns in the carpet and met his son's gaze. "You watch your tongue, boy," he snarled. "You, of all people, know better."

Pollux nodded slowly, conditioned to agree with his elders, no matter what their beliefs might be. "Of course," he said smoothly, covering up his blunder. "I was wondering if you would like Casseiopeia to bring the girl through..."

"Ah," Cygnus said slowly, not bothering to look up. "So it's female." How... Disappointing. His wife was lay dying, all for a girl that was frankly useless. One daughter was enough, especially with the Blood Status crisis as it was. Most traditionally Purist families were being forced to interbreed - something that no Black would ever be allowed to do.

He could hear Pollux nodding, even if he was out of his father's view. "Would you like to see her, father?"

"No," Cygnus snapped again. He had no wish to see the child that was the cause of his wife's slow death. The cause of everything that was going wrong today. Why should be care about the leech, the ugly growth that had jeopardised his perfect, idyllic life. Why would his son be so shallow as to suggest such a thing? Hadn't he raised his children well enough?

Cygnus gripped his wife's hand tightly, desperately feeling for the pulse that _had_ to be there. She couldn't go yet. Not now. Not after he had made it clear that she couldn't. And yet, when his fingers found her boney wrist, there was nothing there. Violetta's skin seemed to freeze under his touch, leaving circles of freezing cold dampness as he frantically pressed down, searching for something that would never be there again. His fingertips left bruises, nails digging into the skin, leaving graceful crescent moons.

He looked up, torn between tears and blasts of fury. Pollux was still awkwardly hovering in the door, looking confused. Cygnus stared at him for what seemed like hours, before he glanced away again, heart thumping in his chest as his brain struggled to grasp what had happened.

"Get out of my sight, boy."


End file.
